


Mirror, My Dear

by Clarybell90



Category: Original Work
Genre: Collars, Complementary Magic, Fantasy, Fear, Just enjoy, Kidnapping, Loose Magic System, M/M, Magic, Magic bonds, Magical Amplifier, Mirrors of Each Other, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, These tags will make sense I promise, heed the warnings, magical bindings, shape shifter, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21783154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clarybell90/pseuds/Clarybell90
Summary: "Let me phrase it this way, then," Maon cuts him off, "You're going to be mine, Ebba. You're going to be mine for the rest of your life, whether you want to or not. The only thing you get to decide is if you'll cooperate or not. As much as I'd rather you just accept this and move on, I'm perfectly willing to break you to make you understand."
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 6
Kudos: 72





	Mirror, My Dear

Ebba wakes up to the sound of screaming. Rolling out of bed, he makes a grab for his sword, magic already spooling out from his chest and into his limbs. Ready to cast, ready to fight. Adrenalin is already pumping through is veins as he wretches open the door.

Only to freeze from the sight before him. A veil of darkness surrounds the village, dimming the early morning sun. The center of the village is on fire, and the people are fleeing away from the smoke. The air is practically buzzing with the amount of magic in it. It looks like hell on earth.

Except Ebba knows that it isn't. Only one thing could have caused this, and despite the sword in his hand he feels fear. Twinmantle College recently announced their independence, and with it their plan to take over the entire region. The King declared war, but Twinmantle has the largest collection of magic users in the world. None of them stand a chance.

Gripping his sword tighter, Ebba hurries to the center of the village. Barely halfway there he finds several guards already engaging hooded magic users. Before they can spot him, Ebba cuts the sorcerers down from behind. Blood sprays from where his sword connects with their shoulders, spattering the man with crimson.

The next half hour is a blur of steel, magic, and smoke. His hands feel numb, arms buzzing from the magic Ebba continuously pushes into them. A simple strength spell, making blows with a sword all the more devastating. It's starting to weigh on him though, pressure slowly building in his ears and head. They need to get out, and get out now.

Slashing the person in front of him across the face, Ebba starts moving back. The guards have the same idea, closing ranks for a quick retreat. Assured in his chance for survival, Ebba swings around, only to find himself face to face with a tall man with black hair. His blue eyes glow as he raises his hand, cold as ice.

"That's quite enough."

The battlefield pauses, quite literally. Ebba tries to jump back, but finds his legs stiff and unresponsive. He gets the same thing when he tries to move his hands. A freezing spell, and a powerful one at that. The magic users still alive all fall into position, bowing their heads to the man before them.

"My lord," One says, "How goes the peace negotiations?"

Peace? Ebba doesn't believe it. If they wanted peace they wouldn't have attacked in the first place. He musters up his best glare as the raven haired man walks by. The pure power underneath the sorcerer's skin is enough to make Ebba's skin cool from pure proximity. That's the final piece of the puzzle that Ebba needs to place the man.

Maon Jewelle, headmaster of Twinmantle and self proclaimed Lord of State stands before him, looking bored as could be. It's as if his face and not his magic is made of ice. He inspects his fingernails, not answering for a long minute. Ebba can feel the tension building as Maon's subordinates wait patiently for him to speak. Their hands are clasped together in something akin to reverence. Ebba's stomach twists just watching them.

"They have nothing useful. Not enough farmers, hardly any funds for taxes. Finish burning this place to the ground," Maon says, hardly bothering to look up from his hands. The mages bow their heads to him, and the flames grow brighter.

Ebba can hear everyone screaming. Can feel the heat that he knows won't kill him, but most certainly will kill those around him. Some part of him starts to simmer, magic buzzing through his still stiff fingers. Creating fire from nothing is hard, it takes energy that Ebba hardly ever has. But he doesn't have to work from nothing. He already has all the flames he could ever use. All they need is direction.

And direction Ebba gives them. Within moments a pillar of flame engulfs the mages, and the spell holding him sputters away. Staggering, Ebba tries to block out the other magic user's cries of angish. Seems they weren't natural flame casters. Manipulating something untied to your soul is always dangerous, and something as volatile as fire isn't something to play with. It's just a good thing they didn't realize Ebba's abilities.

His ears ring. The smoke is thickening, the smell of charred flesh carrying with it. Lowering his sword to his side, Ebba covers his nose with his other arm. The guards around him start staggering away from the flames, the heat too much for them to bear. Ebba remains, planning on making sure nothing is left of the sorcerers.

Then the air around him pops, heat suddenly being shoved away as if the air itself is crashing down upon him. Ebba's breath is knocked out of his chest as a wave of pure _cold_ rushes over everything. Frost forms over places that were still smoldering, and the fire pillar sputters out of existence. Ebba's limbs feel chilled to the bone, a sensation totally foreign to him. Adrenaline worms its way through him as he looks for the one who cast the spell.

Maon walks away from the charred remains of his former students, completely untouched by the flames that surrounded him moments before. His head is tilted slightly as he approaches Ebba, evaluating. Ebba forces his freezing limbs to cooperate, putting his sword once again between himself and the Maon.

"Interesting. I wasn't aware there were any magic users in this town. Especially not one that can use fire. I would have just frozen this place over to begin with if I did," He hums, seemingly unaffected by the sword now pointed at his chest.

A quick glance to the side shows Ebba that the frost is spreading, plunging the temperature even further down. One of the guards scream as it engulfs his leg, and within moments the man is dead. Ebba's breath puffs out in front of him, obscuring his vision.

"Then I suppose I'll just have to kill you before you finish," Ebba says, moving his gaze back to Maon. He raises an eyebrow, pale skin seemingly sparkling among the ice.

"And how do you propose you'd do that, little fire user?" He asks, "You can't produce fire in this cold."

That was true. Ebba doesn't have the energy nor ability to cast in such conditions. Fire, however, isn't his only magic. So pushing the last of his power into his limbs, Ebba swings with all his strength. Naturally Maon casts a shield between himself and Ebba's blade.

What he doesn't expect is for the sword to shatter the shield on contact. Maon barely has time to move before the sword embeds itself into his shoulder, the shield having slowed it enough to prevent Ebba from cleaving his arm off. Blood oozes from the wound, too cold to move very fast. Maon's face is blank with shock.

Wrenching the blade free, Ebba goes to finish the job. Faster than he can react, though, Maon shoots forward. His hand presses against Ebba's temple, and Ebba's magic rushes to meet it. Humming fills his ears, and more strength than should be possible surges through his limbs.

"Be still."

And just like that, Ebba's knees hit the ground, carried downwards by his own momentum. His sword remains clutched in his hand, but he's unable to move it. Unable to move anything. Maon's words echo through his head. _Be still, be still, be-_

Mind magic. That's what Maon used on him. Mind magic.

Heart thudding in his ears, Ebba glares at the headmaster with all the anger in him. Maon tilts forwards, looking as if he's about to fall, before lowering himself to his knees next to Ebba. His face is openly inquisitive, less in pain than it should be for a man that just had a sword sticking out of his shoulder.

"How.... How curious. You're-" His hand cups Ebba's cheek, and instantly the humming of his magic returns, "You're my mirror."

Ebba wants to snap something at him, but finds he can't move his jaw. He's left seething in silence as Maon continues to touch him.

"Extraordinary. I've never felt a magic amplifier this strong. And you've just been sitting here in some backwater village, never even realizing your potential?" Maon breathes, moving his face closer to Ebba. Ebba wants to move. To rip away from this man and free himself from his spell. All he can manage is a hiss of displeasure through his teeth.

Maon doesn't have time to say anything else before more magic users rush to the square. Ebba hadn't even realized that the cold was letting up, no longer killing those around them. Maon's students look panicked as they rush to their headmaster.

They meet him halfway, Maon rising to address his pupils. Already the healers are pulling away his slashed open robe, gently closing the wound underneath. The next several minutes are a frenzy of worried questions, and calm answers. Eventually the magic users settle down, and then does Maon turn back to look at Ebba.

"One of you get some shackles. We're taking him back to the college with us. Kill the rest."

* * *

They locked him at the top of some tower like some princess in a fairy tale. Ebba would find it amusing, if he didn't know what the people here did to his village. To his home. Instead all Ebba feels is rage.

The door is metal, and looking out the window just reveals a several story drop and smooth bricks. He wants to break something, but all that sits in the room with him is a bed, a table, and two chairs. He has an odd feeling that he'll want to keep what few amenities he has. So instead Ebba paces across the stone floor, skin heating up as he moves.

By the time there's any noise outside the door, Ebba has left a singed trail from one side of the room to the other. Ebba freezes at the sound of a key turning in the lock. Before he can think to rush out the door, though, a wave of cold washes out from underneath the door. Ebba shudders at the sudden temperature change, and he knows who's coming in before he can even see him.

Maon stands before him, already sliding the door shut behind him. He's in new, clean, clothing, and his hair is neatly pulled back. He cradles a pitcher in one hand, and a couple of cups in the other. Ebba and him eye each other for a long moment, before Maon crosses to the table.

"The door locked behind me, and I have the key, so don't embarrass yourself trying to get out," He says, coolly. He sits the cups on the table, pouring water into both of them. Then he looks over to Ebba, face even, and beckons him to come closer.

Despite the cold, heat flares in Ebba's hands, his anger sparking a small flame. Before he properly registers it, however, frost cracks throughout the room. Ebba's ears pop from the change in air pressure.

"I understand you're upset, but I'm afraid I can't allow you to try and melt me into a puddle. Now come here."

His lips feel numb, any fire Ebba could build gone with the cold. Unable to do anything, Ebba pulls the chair across the table. He purposely sets it down as far away from Maon as he can, while still sitting at the table. Maon looks mildly annoyed, but doesn't comment on it. Ebba takes one of the cups, only to find the top frozen over.

"There. Now, lets do try to be civilized," Maon hums.

"You threw that out the window when you attacked my village," Ebba spits. Maon sighs softly, looking like a teacher having to explain something to a particularly frustrating student.

"That's not important. They weren't important," He says, "What's important is understanding your significance now."

"My significance?"

"Yes. You're my mirror. My other half. We're destined to be partners for the rest of our lives."

"Partners?" Ebba stutters, "You kill my village, destroy my home, drag me halfway across the country, then hold me prisoner. And you want me to work with you?"

"Come now. It's fate."

"Fate! You don't even know my name!"

Maon pauses at that. He at least has enough self awareness to look slightly abashed at that fact.

"Yes well. We do need to get to know each other some. I'm Maon Jewelle. I would like to know your name."

"Ebba."

"Last name?"

"Doesn't matter," Ebba says, trying hard to not grind his teeth together. The wooden cup in his hand creaks, and Ebba has to force himself to put it down before it breaks. The entire time Maon looks him over, seemingly curious about every aspect of Ebba.

"It's a good name," He says finally, "Suits you."

Ebba doesn't particularly care much for what Maon thinks. He hopes his glare says as much. He finds himself wishing Maon would just let his guard down for a moment, just long enough for Ebba to burn his face off.

"Being partners with you wouldn't be much of a sacrifice. Despite your.... Short stature, you are rather handsome. I didn't realize that brown eyes could smolder the ways yours do, and I imagine your hair is rather soft. At the very least, it's wonderfully curly. I did always like brunettes."

Staring blankly at Maon for a long moment, Ebba tries to process what the man just said. When he does, it takes effort to not shatter the armrest of the seat underneath his hands.

"Are you trying to flatter me into accepting?"

"It's not flattery if it's true. Besides, I'm trying to make you realize that this arrangement can be mutually beneficial," Maon says, sending Ebba a knowing look.

The chair clatters to the floor from the force as Ebba jumps to his feet. Maon watches evenly, unfazed by Ebba's rage.

"If you think I would ever sleep with-"

"Let me phrase it this way, then," Maon cuts him off, "You're going to be mine, Ebba. You're going to be mine for the rest of your life, whether you want to or not. The only thing you get to decide is if you'll cooperate or not. As much as I'd rather you just accept this and move on, I'm perfectly willing to break you to make you understand."

Ebba sits in stunned silence, unable to come up with a proper response. Maon stands up, reaching a hand over to brush along Ebba's jaw. His touch leaves Ebba's skin tingling, and ears roaring.

"Come downstairs with me, dear. I'll teach you Ebba. You could be so powerful, right at my side. With your help I could finish this paltry war in weeks, then everyone would realize that magic users _deserve_ to be in charge."

Jerking back, Ebba shoves as much venom into his words as he can, "You're fucking _insane_."

Maon's eyes go cold, mouth pressing into a thin line.

"I see."

Then his hand is pressed against Ebba's head, and this time Ebba can feel the moment that Maon's magic infiltrates his mind.

"You will remain in this exact spot, not moving, not using your magic, until after one of my students come in here to deliver what you need. Once he's left, and only once he's left, are you free to move again."

And he pulls away. Just like that, Ebba is frozen. The orders float through his head. When Maon turns to leave though, panic starts to set in. He doesn't know how long he'll be left in here. Doesn't know how long he'll be stuck in place, unable to make a sound.

Maon turns to look at him as he opens the door. His face is impassive.

"I won't neglect your studies, just so you know. The only thing you'll have to entertain yourself is the books my students and I bring up to you. Do be grateful for it."

Then the door shuts, and Ebba is alone.

* * *

Several months into his stay at Twinmantle, Ebba is close to going completely stir crazy. Maon indeed only gave him books to entertain himself with. The only other things that interrupt his numbing boredom are his closely guarded showers every other day, and Maon's irregular visits. Without meaning to, Ebba throws himself into the study of magic.

The first book, of course, was about magical mirrors and how they work. All reading that one did was make Ebba suddenly sick, now properly understanding Maon's obsession with him. Still. He read it cover to cover before Maon visited again, this time delivering a new book.

Every single one is over something he's capable of doing easily with his magic. It takes Ebba realizing that Maon has the exact opposite of his for him to figure out how he knows Ebba's magic so well. It's an unsettling feeling.

With every book Ebba reads, Maon grows bolder. He graduates from fleeting touches to long ones. From arms reach to practically constantly being on Ebba's hip. He even starts kissing exposed skin when Ebba is distracted. Every single touch is intoxicating in a way, leaving Ebba wanting more despite it all. It all culminates to when Maon pushes Ebba into the bed, cold fingers sliding under his shirt. That was enough to get Ebba to fight, breaking Maon's wrist in the process.

That of course didn't stop Maon. All he had to do was touch Ebba's head, and utter just a few words, then Ebba was his to do with what he wants. The night was rough and painful, and Maon locks the window as punishment. That leaves Ebba where he is now, curled on the bed and trying to ignore the aching from below as he forces himself to think.

Maon wants him to make progress. Wants him to actually accomplish something meaningful enough with his magic to show he has been learning. Maybe, just maybe, pleasing him will be enough to make Maon leave him alone.

So Ebba drags himself out of bed, hissing at the pain as he sits down, and he opens a book. It's a collection of different animals, illustrations and descriptions side by side in the pages. He just recently learned the theory behind how to shape shift, now all he has to do is choose one. Choose.

Ebba finds himself drawn back to a particular type of kite, a bird of prey not native to anywhere near here. His fingers press against the illustration as he rereads the name. A bat hawk. Ebba likes it. It feels right.

He practices the feelings, never quite going far enough to actually cast the spell, as he waits for Maon to come back. He hopes it's soon. Ebba would rather not dread his return for the next four days.

Thankfully it's only two before Maon makes another apperance. By now Ebba is used to the cold that Maon brings, stops reacting as those icy fingers find their way to Ebba's face. He tries to not think of how close Maon's hand is to his head. To once again forcing Ebba to do whatever he wants.

"I have something I want to show you," Ebba says, mouth dry. Maon raises an eyebrow, but he backs away to give Ebba room to work. Forcing himself to stand, trying not to limp, Ebba tugs on his magic in his chest. So soon after Maon finished touching him, it's still buzzing excitedly. Still slightly amplified.

And then Ebba folds away into a light. Next thing he knows, he's looking up at Maon through vastly different eyes. He barely has time to let out a distressed squawk before Maon is lifting him from the floor. His wings flap in small panic, trying to gain balance without his feet on the floor.

Fingers run down the back of his head, smoothing his feathers. Even in this form it tingles to touch Maon. Still intoxicating. Ebba unconsciously leans into the touch, brushing the side of his face against Maon's hand.

"Beautiful, dear. You did great," Maon breathes, "Now transform back. I'll reward you."

Ebba doesn't like that tone. Doesn't like the way Maon's eyes look him over. Still, it's an easy enough order to follow when still in contact with his mirror. So Ebba listens, and tries to ignore the hands that go down his back as he once again takes human form.

It's harder to ignore the pain as he's pushed once again into bed. He forces himself to pretend it's not happening, not wanting a repeat of last time. But Maon is gentler this time. Maon drags several cracking moans out of Ebba's lips, claiming every inch of him as he does so. It takes hours before Maon is finally done, tugging Ebba close to hold him.

Something deep in Ebba's chest feels broken. It's the final nail in the coffin. Maon's threats weren't empty, and he very much still plans on forcing Ebba to be his.

"Maon."

"Yes, dear?"

"I.... I want to go downstairs with you. Learn in an actual classroom."

Maon hums, pressing his lips against the back of Ebba's neck. It takes effort for Ebba to not shudder.

"So you admit that you're mine?"

Ebba swallows thickly, "Yes."

That earns him a sick feeling in his stomach, as well as a flurry of kisses to his neck and shoulder. He doesn't have to look back to see the smile on Maon's face.

"Good. Good.... We'll go down tomorrow morning. For now dear, go to sleep."

He doesn't. Instead he waits for Maon's breathing to even out, then once again draws on that part inside him. Within moments he's a bird again. Shifting free of Maon's arms, he hops from the bed to the windowsill, nestling into the corner.

Tucking his head under his wing, Ebba tries to rest, feeling emptier than he has his entire life.


End file.
